Worlds Apart
by ShigeSato
Summary: A young Troll is a proud warrior of the Horde. He has no time for love. Until that fateful meeting with the night elf. Typical Warcraft love story? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.
1. Chapter 1

Worlds Apart

Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I was not the owner of Blizzard Entertainment Ltd. Therefore I do not own World of Warcraft. And it still haunts me that I didn't invent it first.

Chapter 1

The sun scorched a hole in the burning sky as Zekoth dragged his weary body back through the rugged mountains of Durotar to the cool shade of the Cleft of Shadows. He had been at Skull Rock, thinning the numbers of the accursed Burning Legion that had decided to make it their own.

Zekoth disliked doing things for other people, petty favours they could easily do themselves. That apothecary that had assigned him the mission – it would have taken five minutes of his day to go and clear those orcs out himself. And yet, instead he sits in Orgrimmar looking smug and mixing colourful liquids.

A proud Troll, Zekoth fought for only two things; his honor and that of the Horde. Every enemy his sword impaled, every spear stopped short by his thick shield, the blood he shed and the pain he endured – they were for himself and his allies. He cared nothing for any individual. There could only be survival of the fittest, and Zekoth intended to survive.

As he reached the small tent of that ungrateful Forsaken and collected his reward, the Troll warrior noticed a small group of orcs and Tauren enter the huge cavern that led through to the scourge of Orgrimmar – Ragefire Chasm. He chuckled to himself. At least they finally got someone to sort that out – Thrall had been a bit lazy in getting rid of that foul satyr Bazzalan.

Zekoth hoisted his shield up a bit further on his shoulders and started out of the Cleft. The place gave him the creeps – full of the stench given off by the rotting Forsaken, who stood and watched him unnervingly with glowing yellow eyes. He still didn't entirely trust the Forsaken's loyalty to the Horde.

As he passed through the Valley of Strength, Zekoth stopped in the Auction House. It was always busy this time of year, with Winter Veil approaching, everyone buying gifts for friends and lovers. Zekoth snorted. He had no time for such things as friends or women – there was only himself, the Horde and the enemy. A young Troll, Zekoth had not yet fallen in love – and of that he was glad. Troll females were more trouble than they were worth.

Finding nothing of interest, he stepped out into the sun again, relishing the burning feel on his pale blue skin. He stretched his arms and raised his long, curved tusks, yawning widely, then gathered his strength and bounded the last few steps to the gates of Orgrimmar. The guards nodded to him as he passed, and Zekoth grinned back. He looked at the clear blue sky. It was time to go hunting again.

Before he had taken more than a few steps, though, he noticed a small object poking out from behind a rocky outcrop. Curious, he swung round the side of the rock, sword drawn, and found the small, curled body of a night elf.

Casually, Zekoth sheathed his sword and leaned over the elf to inspect her. She was wearing a long, green robe that flowed over her hips and stopped just short of her dainty ankles. The markings on her face were a beautiful purple colour, matching her silky hair. Zekoth's hand was drawn to the white paint on his face and he smiled faintly.

The elf was dead. Zekoth knew he should be glad, since otherwise she would have got into Orgrimmar, but he wasn't. He felt a sense of loss, as if it was a shame that her life had been wasted. Shaking his head Zekoth grunted. There was no place for softness in his life, or in the Horde.

Zekoth knew he should just leave her. A vile night elf, the enemy of the Horde. He was better off with her dead, since that was one less foe to face. However, before he realised what he was doing, he'd cast a spell of resurrection and she was sleepily looking up.

The shaman looked at his hands. Had they just wrought that? Had he, a proud soldier of the Horde, just resurrected a night elf? He blinked and lowered his palms again. Zekoth's pride was in question.

The elf glanced around her, and seeing nobody around but he, she shakily stood up and thanked him. Of course, the Troll did not understand her language, but there was no mistaking the grateful gesture. He nodded to her in acceptance and walked away. Something made him look back over his shoulder as he continued down the path to Razor Hill, and as he did so he saw the shape of the elf standing, prone, staring after him. Then, she transformed into a dark panther and became one with the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the World of Warcraft franchise, if I did, do you really think I'd be sitting on my bum writing a fanfic?

Chapter 2

Sea birds called to each other across the peaceful, humid skies of Stranglethorn. The jumbled, seemingly unstable architecture that was Booty Bay was as usual thriving with activity. Then a horn blared, scattering the birds, and a grand ship made its way through the calm waters of the cove to drop off its passengers travelling from Ratchet.

Amongst these passengers was a slim night elf druid, who stepped lightly off the boat and, taking the shape of a fearsome leopard, leapt up out of Booty Bay and into the Cape of Stranglethorn proper. Her lithe, slight body flashed past trees and creatures as she ran as fast as she could north past the more dangerous beings that inhabited the Vale.

Kimara stopped short, panting, and resumed her normal form. Hemet Nesigwary Jr. stood before her, grinning at her prowess in killing the 10 Stranglethorn Raptors she had been assigned. She accepted his praise and his next challenge, before shooting off to the Tkashi Ruins to gather a few Bloodscalp Ears for one of the goblins in Booty Bay.

As she stalked up behind a Bloodscalp troll, Kimara glanced left and right to see if there was anyone else on the hunt for these. Apparently not – she had no need to defend her kills. Positioning herself behind the troll, she struck with a deadly Ravage that sliced open her victim's back.

The troll howled in pain and, turning to her, drew his two-handed axe and began hacking at her wildly. She expertly dodged each and every swing of the blade before striking back with her razor sharp claws. The Bloodscalp realised he could not win, and turned to flee. Kimara pursued it and with one last slash across its back, the troll was down. Kimara abruptly ripped the bloodied ears off of the corpse and, placing them in her backpack, turned to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye, though, she noticed a commotion in the centre of the ruins. A gathering of about five trolls, surrounding something that was writhing and yelling in a strange tongue. Intrigued, she shaded herself again and went to see what all the uproar was about.

In the middle of the mass of trolls was another Troll, though not like the others. He was taller, and had lovely blue hair instead of ugly tattoos and markings over a bald scalp. Something about the white paint on his face and the way he wielded his sword and shield stirred a memory inside Kimara. Outside Orgrimmar...yes, she was sure it was him. The shaman that had helped her!

Without further ado, she leapt into the air, and with a fearsome roar took the form of a great bear. Using her bulk as much as her teeth and claws, she grabbed the attention of all the hostile Bloodscalp and turned to fight them.

The shaman didn't waste any time. He cast a spell of healing upon himself and on Kimara, then with a flourish, jumped back into the fight. He and Kimara fought back to back, bear and Troll joined as one against a common enemy.

When the last Bloodscalp fell to the ground, Kimara healed herself and the shaman. He seemed a little surprised to see her again. She was sure he recognised her, from the look on his face. She giggled slightly, then caught herself.

The Troll has caught her giggle, though. He smiled, then it broke into a laugh, and within seconds both were in fits. She liked the sound of his laughter. It was clear and melodic, like the chiming of church bells. He grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up. She proffered her hand for a high five, and he took it, but instead of slapping it, just held it for a moment.

For a second, a feeling passed between them. Their hands fit perfectly into each other's. The shaman squeezed her palm ever so slightly, and she smiled in response. She had heard awful, terrible tales of the Trolls that lurked in the mountains of Durotar and ambushed night elf children and ate them. But seeing this Troll, now, their hands joined and their smiles matching, those tales were hard to believe.

Then he took his hand away, and the moment was gone. Kimara felt a little disappointed, but she knew it was time to leave. She couldn't stay here forever, gazing into the Troll's wonderful, deep eyes, wishing those strong arms were wrapped around her...

Kimara shook herself. This was not the way she should think of a Troll. They were natural enemies, Alliance versus Horde, and there was no way that could change. With a sad smile and a wave goodbye, she turned and tore away in her lithe leopard form.

Zekoth looked at the sky and sighed deeply.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As I'm sure you probably already know, I'm not a multi-millionaire that owns Blizzard Entertainment Ltd.

Zekoth shivered in the chilled, frosty air of Winterspring. One more Winterfall Ursa...where were those blasted teddy bears? Aha – he spotted one atop a snow-covered hill. A Chain Lightning ripped through the sky and smashed into the furry foe, which swung round, growling, and started for him.

The Troll was ready though. He unsheathed his two handed sword and with a mighty swing, cut right through the furbolg's body. It fell lifeless to the ground and Zekoth smirked in satisfaction. 1500 was not a bad record for a sword hit.

Suddenly, a night elf ran into his line of sight. The shaman's heart leapt – but it was not Kimona, the one he had befriended. This was a different elf, who shot him a hostile glare before darting away again.

Zekoth sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Ever since that meeting in the Tkashi Ruins, he had been unable to keep Kimona off his mind. Every time a member of the Alliance appeared, he instantly hoped it was her. He knew it was wrong – he was a proud member of the Horde, glory and honor were his only cares.

And yet. The beauty of the elf's stature, her shining, dark eyes and enticing figure, drove him mad. He knew he should not feel this way – perhaps about a Troll female, but night elves were out of the question. They were enemies. He didn't even speak her language!

But somewhere deep, Zekoth had realised long ago what these feelings meant.

Sighing, he whistled and called to him his trusty raptor. The loyal beast carried him back to Everlook, where he spoke with the goblin who had sent him out on this seemingly pointless expedition. The goblin scowled at seeing Zekoth return alive, but grudgingly handed over the promised gold and waved him off.

As the shaman exited the stone building, he noticed an agitated-looking goblin in the corner of the town. The green-skinned person noticed him and hurried over, informing him of the need for a certain Chimaera to be destroyed. Zekoth raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless decided to go and kill it. He needed the money anyway.

After twenty minutes of searching, he found the beast. It was lazily drifting around beside a large hill of ice. He zoned in on it and began to charge another Chain Lightning.

Before the spell was finished, though, a green burst of light shot towards the beast and hit it squarely in the face. It roared and shot after the caster. Zekoth scowled in anger at having been cheated of his kill, and ran to find out who the unknown caster happened to be. If it was a member of the Alliance, he'd rip their Goddamn head off-

As he rounded the corner, the Troll stopped short in surprise. Kimara!

The druid was struggling, her low health decreasing as she attempted to cast a spell of healing. She hadn't noticed Zekoth, her entire attention focused on the chimaera she was fighting.

The shaman took pity on her and cast a heal on her. She looked round, saw him and instantly refocused on the beast. The Troll smiled and began to add his own, considerable, damage to the chimaera. Eventually, it roared in agony and dropped dead to the snowy floor.

Kimara walked over to Zekoth and waved. He grinned back and cheered at her. They had won! She laughed. The shaman gestured at the corpse and gave her a questioning look. She seemed not to fully understand, but shook her head indicating he could take the head of the monster.

Zekoth shook his head. Kimara grinned and sliced the head, tucking it in her pack. Zekoth noticed she was even more beautiful than he remembered, wearing robes of elegant, flowing silver material. Unwittingly, his hand roved to his hair as he automatically tidied it.

The elf stood and made to leave. Then she hesitated, turned back and ran to Zekoth, who was totally unprepared for what happened next. Her long, thin arms wrapped round his neck and he automatically put his round her waist as they hugged.

She felt perfect in his arms. Just the right size. He closed his eyes and squeezed her tight, losing himself in the moment. Then they parted, and she held up her hand. He touched it as he had before, then she waved goodbye and was gone.

The Troll smiled after her already fading tracks. He hoped that was not the last he would see of her. That elf stirred up feelings and aches in parts of his body he never knew could exist. He needed her like air; her intoxicating scent of trees and nature, and her shapely figure and beautiful eyes.

Too late, Zekoth realised the danger. He'd fallen for a member of the Alliance.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Yet again, I say it: I DO NOT OWN WORLD OF WARCRAFT. How many times do I need to tell you people??

A cry split the air as the crash of a sword on shield rang out. A mass of bodies and blood stained the soft grass and the buildings were in flames, huge ephemeral beings that flickered up to the blue sky then sank back down again as their neighbour flared up. Halaa was in conflict.

A draenei guard cried out as he fell, bleeding from the chest. He was the last – Halaa was now defenseless. Only the few brave members of the Alliance remained to fend off the incoming Horde advances.

As the sun slowly sank in the sky, bringing with it an impending twilight, the battle raged on until only a handful remained standing. Two growling bears circled each other menacingly. One had horns, the other long, pointed ears. The horned bear leapt through the air and ripped into the other until they were nothing but a rolling, tussling heap of brown fur.

On the other side of the town, two shamans fought to the death. Totems surrounded the area, totems of mana and of fire and of earth, each calling to the elements to aid them in this deathmatch. The contenders, a Troll and a draenei, duelled fiercely in the centre of this ragged circle, swords flashing in the dying sun as they exchanged blows too fast to follow.

With a roar of triumph, the long-eared bear batted the other away with a mighty paw, and bore down upon him. The second transformed back into his Tauren form, bleeding severely from the head, and tried to cast a spell of regrowth. The night elf, though, merciless, grabbed his neck in her teeth and snapped it cleanly.

She turned, growling, bleeding from several wounds, as she heard her fellow Alliance member cry out in agony. Surely he was dead; that meant she was the only thing standing between Halaa and the Horde. She had to defend it. Rearing up high, rage coursing through her body, she charged in the direction of the sound.

Zekoth could not see what was coming for him. One instant the shaman fell; the next he was on his back, a great bear ripping at his exposed arms and face with claws the size of daggers. He rolled over, flinging the bulk off, and turned to face his attacker, breathing heavily. Both were suffering several wounds and their breath was ragged and gasping.

The druid saw the shaman's face for the first time, and shock overcame her. She plopped down on her furry bum and stared in surprise. It was her friend, Zekoth!

The shaman, though, had blood shading his eyes and could not see clearly. He lashed out, and it was only when he heard the night elf's shriek of surprise and hurt, that he recognised the sultry tone of her voice. Kimara!

Shaking the blood from his eyes as a dog would the water from its fur, he blinked to see the beautiful elf standing before him, smiling, no longer a threat. She held out her hand and he put his over it in their sign of friendship, their fingers knotted together.

The spirit of the draenei Zekoth had defeated arrived at the scene. 'Get him Kimara! He's weakened, you can kill him!'

Kimara turned and shook her head. 'I'm not fighting him.'

The draenei gaped. 'Why not? He's a bloody Troll!'

'He's my friend,' explained Kimara. 'We've met before – I won't kill him.' She folded her arms resolutely.

Zekoth, unable to follow this short conversation, looked from one to the other. He saw Kimara fold her arms and shake her head, and he guessed the draenei was asking why she hadn't attacked him yet.

Kimara gestured to Zekoth to follow her, and took the form of a black crow. She offered one of her talons, and Zekoth gingerly took it, in case he hurt her with his weight. Fortunately, she was easily able to carry him, and she flew him up to a floating island above Halaa.

They sat there for a while in silence, before the Troll was suddenly overcome by an urge. He moved very close to Kimara and ran his hand over her cheekbone. She turned to face him, confused, and carefully positioning himself so she would not be impaled by his tusks, Zekoth lunged forward and captured her lips.

Kimara was suddenly met with a long, slow kiss, and she couldn't help but lean into it and kiss back. The Troll's tongue whipped out and grazed her lips, and she opened them so their tongues could meet and perform a fiery dance of passion and lust.

Suddenly Kimara felt a hand roaming up her spine, under her armor, and she squirmed in pleasure. She broke the kiss and ripped her chest armor off to reveal her bra. Zekoth's hand swiftly undid it in one motion and while his other hand massaged one breast, his tongue leapt out and began travelling in small circles over the other.

Kimara moaned and pulled off Zekoth's belt and chest armor, revealing a tanned, muscly chest. Unsatisfied with this, though, she ripped his leg armor off. The growing tent in his boxers was all she needed – as the shaman ceased massaging her breasts and claimed her lips again, she slid his pants down and her hands found his hard-on.

They moved expertly up and down the shaft, gripping tightly but not too tight. Zekoth moaned in pleasure. She broke their kiss, and began moving her mouth down his body, kissing and nipping here and there. When she reached his erection, she enveloped it in her moist cavern and the Troll almost screamed with the waves of pleasure overcoming him. It was an effort not to thrust into her mouth.

Kimara lapped her tongue round the huge manhood, and, grazing it slightly with her teeth, she moved her head up and down the shaft. Zekoth thrust into her mouth slightly, unable to hold back, and she increased her pace until he came in her mouth. The salty taste filled her mouth and she swallowed it all, licking her lips.

Zekoth rolled them over until he was on top, and she was below him. Gingerly, he slid the point of a tusk into her folds and moved it gently around, avoiding her clit. Then, suddenly, the tusk was gone, to be replaced by one of his six thick fingers. He moved it over her clit and she mewled and thrust her hips forward. The finger slid in and out of her, tantalisingly, agonising her. He almost filled her completely, and that was just his finger.

The Troll positioned himself over her and slid into her. She gave a cry of pain at the size of him, so as much as he wanted to push in further, he waited until she got used to the size of him. When she nodded, he pushed in further until he was met with a slight resistance. Surprised, he glanced at her. She didn't look like a virgin. He met her gaze questioningly. Did she really want to lose it to him, a lowly Troll?

He was half-shocked when she gestured for him to go on. He thrust through the hymen and she cried out, closing her eyes against the pain. When she opened them again, they were full of a strange emotion, and it took Zekoth a second to realise what it was.

Love.

He grinned and began moving slowly in and out. His instinct was to push her into the ground and fuck her like a rabbit, but he held back until she mewled and squirmed and pushed his hips into hers.

Taking this as a signal, he let loose and went as fast as he could go. He heard her gasp of surprise, then her moans of pleasure – or were they his? He didn't know. They intermingled and wound round each other until finally he came inside her, filling her with his seed.

They rolled apart, panting, and he tried to take himself out of her. But she stopped him and looked at his eyes. He nodded, understanding – she liked him inside her, it felt good. He smiled and lay down opposite her until the sun set completely over Nagrand and they fell asleep under the stars.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: sigh Once again, and for the final time (I hope) I do not own World of Warcraft, never have, never will. Satisfied?

Chapter 5

Kimara sat in her thinking place, a favourite spot in Stranglethorn Vale. It was the place where a small waterfall led from the river out into the Vile Reef, in the shadow of Grom'gol and by where the lovely Troll sold his goods.

The sun was about to rise. She had come here for a bit of space and time to contemplate things and think stuff through. The Horde zeppelin from Orgrimmar beat its way through the sky overhead and came to rest on the platform by the base camp.

The elf sighed and looked back at the ocean. Every time she saw something of the Horde, it reminded her of Zekoth. Her friend...her _lover_...she didn't know what he was, but she knew she was in love with him.

She knew it was wrong. Trolls and night elves could not be together...they were of opposite factions, and they didn't even speak the same tongue. She knew it was stupid, and that she'd probably never see him again, but still...she hoped. Just one more glance at those deep, intelligent eyes. Just one more passionate kiss.

A sound in the brush behind her made her whip round. Could it be?

But no. It was only a Stranglethorn Tigress, looking at her disdainfully and walking off with its nose in the air. Stupid creature.

The elf sighed again, deeper, and returned her gaze to the sunrise, which was nearly happening. A pinkish glow had erupted over the sea and the tip of a bright light was hinting on the horizon. At least she could always come here and be at peace.

Footsteps, silent as the grave, sounded behind her, but even her keen ears did not pick them up. Then the unseen walker brushed past a frond of ferns, and she looked up warily.

'Zekoth!' her eyes were wide. Even though she knew he did not understand her, it was nice to say his name.

'What be happening?' he asked as he lowered himself down beside her.

She gaped at him as he grinned mischeviously. 'You...how...what...I...but...'

Eventually she managed a sentence. 'You learned Common!'

'Just in case, mon,' replied Zekoth, and held his arm out. She snuggled up against him and they watched the sun rise over the reef. At that moment, the world was at peace.

Hey guys, sorry for the corny ending, couldn't help myself:P

Hope you enjoyed it, and that it was alright...hope I did you guys and Blizzard proud!

If any you want to contact me, (cant see why you would, but) I'm:

Demonwolf on Eonar (Alliance)

Dawnheart on Eonar (Alliance)

Fluffytusk on Eonar (Horde)

Cheers guys, review plz! Luv yaz xoxox


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